Lying

This is a difficult topic for me. I just can't decide if it is right or wrong to lie in some situations. Obviously I know it is wrong to lie in real situations, for example when you are in court, or talking about something really important. The situations I'm talking about are like minimal things. On the really low side, you have the things that are physical...Like if someone asks you if you like their new hair cut. Personally, you hate it. You think it looks god awful. Do you tell them that? Or do you LIE and say that you like it. I usually try to avoid saying anything if I don't like something, but if it comes up, I will lie. I will tell them what will make them happy, as long as it won't hurt them in the long run. What harm is there in telling someone you like their hair, when you really don't? You've saved their self esteem a little, is all. It isn't like the world will end, because of that white lie, right? And what could they do about it anyway? Make their hair grow back? No, so it doesn't really matter. You've avoided conflict. A natural thing to do. I hate when people say things to me that they should keep to themselves. I have one friend, who ever time I'm around her, she points out a flaw in me. Every time. It never fails. It's come to the point where I don't even like being around her because she makes me feel bad about myself. It is almost like she does it just to feel superior to me. People don't have to be that honest. I won't be that honest, and I'm a pretty blunt person. It isn't just those physical situations though, there are others. I think over the course of this post, I've come to the conclusion that lying is okay in situations where neither party is getting hurt mentally, emotionally, or physically. So then, if by your lying to them, they are put into physical danger, or their heart breaks, or they become schizophrenic, then lying is bad. But lying is also bad if it creates false hope/esteem. The lying can't be taken so far that someone how is terrible at a sport thinks they are the best thing since Babe Ruth. That would be out of line. I don't know though, what do you guys think?

So...hypocrites. I'm not a big fan. I know that I probably have my own hypocritical moments, but still. The reason this came about actually, is because of something I remembered. I don't even think this is considered hypocrisy, but it reminds me of it all the same, so I will tell you about it. There is this girl. She is nice. A bit judgmental and pretty overbearing at times, but still good overall. When I held my position of power in the last play, she came to me in search of a part and told me how angry she would be if this other girl got the part. She pretty much went on and on about how much she would be mad if that happened. Well, as it turned out, the first girl did get the part, and the second girl was pissed. Pissed. She stopped talking to the first girl for at least a week. Well, now, as it turns out, these two girls are practically best friends. How about that. Maybe people just change...or are you friends when it is convenient and it betters yourself, but not when your "friends" set you back?

Connections...

You know what is weird? Say you are some place and you see someone you know, but they don't see you right away. You look away after a while, because you don't want to stare at them. You occasionally try to catch their eye, to be polite and not ignore them, but you never do. By now you have both seen each other, just failed to acknowledge one another. Then, if by some chance you do connect, it is hard to say, "Oh! Hey!" like you just saw them, because you both know you're lying. Am I the only one who thinks this is weird? Probably. Sorry. It's 'cause I'm a bit nauseous...the blood thing...

Reflection

It has been over a year since I started blogging. A lot of things have changed, but a lot is still the same. My first posts were meaningful in a thoughtful yet detached sort of way, and my most resent posts have given you a lot more intimate look at me. When I first started posting, I had no idea about anything. I was young, not as intune to reality as I am now. My life was easy then. I had no stress. When second semester came along, I was hopeless. I nearly went crazy with stress according to some people, though in my mind I was perfectly calm. When summer came, I had only sorrow. Junior year had been the best of my high school career. I remember that when Senior year started, all I wanted was to be a Junior again. I didn't need to be the ruler of the school. I didn't care. I still don't. It is only a game really. A game, that as of recently, I'm growing quite tired of. Blogging for me is different than for some people, I guess. I have never been able to keep up a journal. Once in a while, I will write something down when I am really angry and afraid I might do something stupid if I don't get it off my chest, but it never keeps up. I quit after a day. Occasionally I will come across these old writings and smile in a sad way at the silly things that used to make me mad. Blogging had become my outlet. If I am going to keep journaling, I need feedback. If my thoughts are too personal to share with the world, they stay locked in my head. I leave no paper trail to my hidden thoughts. You only know what I want you to know. Over the last year, I find I have gradually become a more internal person. Though I am sharing more it seems, it is only because I have more in my head to share. There wasn't this build up before. I was still a worry free, college free, problem free kid, with everything to live for and nothing to lose. I invite you to revisit these times. My favorite post is still Monotonous, but it doesn't really matter. It was a long time ago.

Insane

I feel like I'm on the edge of insanity. I'm at a terrible place in my life. I don't like who I'm becoming. I feel like I'm falling. I just want to scream and run away. Get away. From everything. Everyone. I get so confused sometimes. My mind travels faster than I can keep up. What shows on the outside is only a small fraction of what I feel on the inside. When I smile, I know that it is fake. I'm not smiling. It doesn't reach my eyes. I hate that. I feel like there is something missing in my life. I need something. I know what it is. I just don't know how to get it. I know I have to talk to someone. I know I can't do it on my own. I'm driving myself mad. I want to scream, with rage, with fear, pleading.

Things I want to read in my life.

Get ready, there are a lot of them.

Aeneid
Aesop's Fables
The Art of War
The Bible
The Brothers Karamazov
Canterbury Tales
The Constitution
The Count of Monte Cristo
The Death of Ivan Llych
The Declaration of Independence
Divine Comedy
Don Quixote
Fables
Grimm's Fairy Tales
Gulliver's Travels
The House of Mirth
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
The Last of the Mohicans
Les Miserables
Metamorphosis
Moby Dick
Oliver Twist
Robinson Crusoe
The Scarlet Letter
The Complete works of Shakespeare
Sherlock Holmes
Treasure Island
Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea
Uncle Tom's Cabin
Utopia
Vanity Fair
War and Peace
The War of the Worlds
Wuthering Heights

This is supposedly an actual essay written by an extremely creative college applicant to NYU. The author was accepted and is reportedly now attending NYU.

QUESTION 3A: ARE THERE ANY SIGNIFICANT EXPERIENCES YOU HAVE HAD, OR ACCOMPLISHMENTS THAT HAVE HELPED DEFINE YOU AS A PERSON?

I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. I have been known to remodel train stations on my lunch breaks, making them more efficient in the area of heat retention. I translate ethnic slurs for Cuban refugees, I write award-winning operas, I manage time efficiently.

Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row. I woo women with my sensuous and godlike trombone playing. I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed, and I cook 30-minute brownies in 20 minutes.

I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru.

Using only a hoe and a large glass of water, I once single-handedly defended a small village in the Amazon basin from a horde of ferocious army ants. I play bluegrass cello. I was scouted by the Mets. I am the subject of numerous documentaries. When I'm bored, I build large suspension bridges in my yard. I enjoy urban hang gliding. On Wednesdays, after school, I repair electrical appliances free of charge.

I am an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie. Critics worldwide swoon over my original line of corduroy evening wear. I don't perspire.

I am a private citizen, yet I receive fan mail. I have been caller number nine and have won the weekend passes. Last summer I toured New Jersey with a traveling centrifugal force demonstration. I bat .400. My deft floral arrangements have earned me fame in international botany circles. Children trust me.

I can hurl tennis rackets at small moving objects with deadly accuracy. I once read Paradise lost, Moby Dick, and David Copperfield in one day and still had time to refurbish an entire dining room that evening. I know the exact location of every food item in the supermarket. I have performed several covert operations for the CIA. I sleep once a week; when I do sleep, I sleep in a chair. While on vacation in Canada, I successfully negotiated with a group of terrorists who had seized a small bakery. The laws of physics do not apply to me.

I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, and my bills are all paid. On weekends, to let off steam, I participate in full-contact origami. Years ago I discovered the meaning of life, but forgot to write it down. I have made extraordinary four course meals using only a mouli and a toaster oven.

I breed prize-winning clams. I have won bullfights in San Juan, cliff-diving competitions in Sri Lanka, and spelling bees at the Kremlin. I have played Hamlet, I have performed open-heart surgery, and I have spoken with Elvis.

But, I have not yet gone to college.

I'm sort of a random person when it comes to certain things. For example, whether or not I like someone. You could be a perfectly nice person, but when I meet you, I might not like you. I'm sure it is a personallity trait that is subtle and is probabaly not even suquential, but it will cause me to dislike you. There are several people who come into where I work like this. They are very nice people, and everyone seems to get along with them, I just don't like them. No real reason. They just bug me. I'm civil to them and everything, and even offer up random bits of conversation, but in my head, I just want them to go away. I'm sorta mean like that, I guess.

Looking people in the eye

I really like looking people in the eye, most of the time. It makes me feel connected to the other person. I hate it when you are trying to talk to someone and they are looking at million different things. I hate how I do this, sometimes. Like today, when I was having a conversation (which here means, just listening and never getting a word in edgewise) with someone about something that I knew that person thought was very important I had a hard time looking that person in the eye, because I was uncomfortable. I looked at the clock. I looked out the window once or twice. I checked behind me to see who was at the door. Anything to keep from looking the person in the eye and risk being intimidated. I was consciously doing it too. I had a little battle inside myself for a minute or so. "Don't look at the clock, don't do it. Stop it. Look at him. The clock isn't important. Pretend to listen. You already know what time it is. Stop! Grr. Are you happy? You looked at the clock. What did that accomplish? Nothing, that's what. Look at him." I finally just looked him in the eye and everything was fine. Sometimes, I have competitions with others, to see who will break eye contact first. It is my own competition, the other participant doesn't know they are playing. Like when my dad is speaking loudly at me I look him in the eye just to be defiant. That makes me feel good. He hates it, and I can tell. He wants to feel in control, and when I stare back at him, it takes his power. That is mean spirited, I know, but I can't help it. I like staring into people eyes for other reasons too though. Sometimes I can see what they are thinking. I notice a lot that young kids have an innocent twinkle in their eyes that older people tend not to have. The eye is the window to the soul, they say. I don't know if this is true, but I can see truth in it.

Wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. Scientists have proven the long-term benefits of sunscreen, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or celebrate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.

Enjoy your body. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble, and children respected their elders. Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it is worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

It's funny, when I'm angry I drive faster. All I want to do is be away from people as long as I can and all I do is bring myself closer to them faster. I can't believe my mom. She thinks I'm some stupid teenager destined to make the same mistakes she did when she was my age. I just want to scream, "Mom! I'm not you! I have morals. I'm not stupid," in a very accusing tone. I would, but it would be sure to offend her, and I would be sure to be grounded. She doesn't even know me. Maybe I don't want to talk to her. Maybe the things I'm thinking are too personal for her to know. When I just stare into space and blink back tears, she asks me why I'm so upset and I just want to tell her to leave me alone but she won't. I'm so angry. My stomach is upset. My head hurts. My eyes burn with tears. Grrr.

I opened a real book today for the first time in quite a while, and I don't mean a text book, or anything like that. I mean a book that was just for enjoyment. It was exhilarating. I forgot how much I love reading. For the few hours it took me to read it, I was free. It provided a welcomed distraction from my confused, broken, overwhelming thoughts. I fell into the story, became part of it. I lived through the characters. I learned. The message was profound. Meaningful. I feel enlightened. I have the courage to make my decisions. If only I can muster the courage to fulfill them. Carpe Diem.

We are the music makers
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lonely sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World losers and world forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world, forever, it seems.
With wonderful deathless ditties
We build up with world's great cities,
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire's glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song's measure
Can trample an empire down.
We in the ages lying,
In the buried past of the earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself with out mirth.
And o'erthrew them with prophesying
To the old on the new world's worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.

-Arthur O'Shaunghnessy